Let the games begin.
Edale to Torside
I’d taken a position nearish the front in solidarity with the effervescent Women Run Ultras massive, whooping and hollering our way through the crowd, a fair few of us slowing once we reached the car park to allow the racing snakes to fire their engines and bomb on ahead.
In direct contrast to last year, I didn’t faff with my pack a bit after the start – I knew everything was in its correct place, and all the straps on my trusty UD 30 had been sensibly rolled and taped up so they weren’t flying about like great yellow tentacles for the duration.
I was moving at a steady clip, probably faster than I wanted to be moving from the off, but that’s little surprise; my adrenaline for this moment had been boiling my blood for weeks and all that energy needed to escape somehow. I could feel my dodgy hamstring and glute reminding me of their presence, but I knew that I’d protect them for the duration and was hopeful it was yet another case of me feeling more pain than actually existed. This was another long term learning, fully realised during the SW80k – I never jigged that my head thinks I hurt more than I actually hurt / am hurt. I’d proven I could manage this in April and today was my next, and greatest ever, opportunity to once again test that theory.
Through the gate and up we went as the rain and wind picked up and it started to feel properly Spiney. Much to my surprise, this didn’t trouble me, in fact it lifted me – I was thinking if I’m to complete that century and complete another Spine Race of any distance, the weather should be positively shite at some point. And it was certainly shite enough for me to grin with delight and shout ‘let the games begin!’ at a passerby who’d wished me luck. I was in my element and loving every minute.
I paired up with a lovely lady called Sarah for the first few miles, and we shared stories of niggles and races done and yet to do as we made our way to Jacob’s Ladder. Unlike last year, I had all that hill training in my legs this time. Unlike last year, my head game had come with me. So I was feeling strong and confident as we started up. I knew my entire race would be defined by what happened on that climb – if I ascended with the ease I’d trained for, it was game on. I knew that any struggle would burrow in my head and fester, then expand immeasurably at the most inopportune moment imaginable. This is the curse of ultrarunning. If I’d learned anything in the past seven years of trying to achieve a 100 miler, the early miles are everything to my head game.
Lucky for me then, my legs turned up. I wasn’t a mountain goat by any stretch, but there wasn’t even the slightest hint of gasping and panting, and my penchant for climbing strong was clearly in play. I couldn’t have had a better start if you paid me to and when this realisation hit me, the grin that sprouted on my face most likely added to the energy working its way through my legs. The fact there were so many people around me indicated that I was moving well and hadn't dropped back yet, which I knew I would over time. That was particularly important to me here, as it was the climbing I'd trained so hard to master and any failing going up would be a problem later. But it was all smooth sailing. Despite the on again off again blasts of rain it was reasonably simple to follow the route to the top and across the plateau and my nav was consistently on point.
I may have actually squealed with delight to see the Kinder ‘Upfall’ was on duty today, but I stopped short of total elation as the rain went from Spiney to spicy – a sudden onset of needle sharp sideways-blowing sleet turned a trail full of runners into slightly frantic ordinary humans digging for their rain gear. I already had my jacket on, so it was more of a hood up, get the overmitts on job. A voice cried out ‘I signed up for the summer race!’ and was carried off by another almighty gust of that stabbing wet wind before I even had time to laugh.
It thereafter became a game of ‘get me off this fucking plateau’ and I power walked with great purpose, until I got rather trapped behind a member of the public moving justatinybitslower than me, so I reluctantly kept in step until I spotted an opportunity to dash around him and jeff myself well away.
My pacing plan was always to treat the race as three separate races to account for the drastic difference in what it took to achieve cutoffs. My goal was first and foremost to bag my 100, and then to finish the race. Deep down, going in I didn’t even care if I went over time in the end. This race had become the infrastructure for my century and that was my focus. An official finish would be the icing on the cake. It sounds insane in retrospect but that knowledge was the very thing that gave me the mental serenity to get it done in the end.
The timings, although helpful, would be little more than a rough guide. I know from experience that my body will break down in some way (usually in lots of ways at once!) and as long as I could get in and out of Hebden in time I’d feel confident I could finish. Attempting to stay to set timings is not how my head wants to race, and not how my body aIlows me to race, so I had four sets of timings I’d thought through, with different cumulative paces mapped out to adhere to them. These were mostly based on knowing what time I could arrive in places with amenities (like the Hare and Hounds in Lothersdale, and that shining orb of sustenance: the Gargrave Co-op.)
So plan was that I’d ‘race’ from Edale to Hebden Hey, moving at my fastest but not too fast that I’d blow up. I wanted to reach Hebden anywhere between 3 and 5 am, and get out by 7. My arrival time would determine whether I’d try to sleep there or elsewhere. Then I planned to achieve the Malham cutoff with enough time to spare so that I could get up and over Fountains Fell and Pen-y-ghent before moving comfortably to the finish over the gruelling, foot-chewing Cam Road and beyond.
Timings were going reasonably to plan across all of Kinder plateau, and I finally reached the descent, minced my way down as the polite folks coming up took pity on me and stayed to the left. My hill training may have helped me on the climb but I was still absolutely shitting myself that I’d fall here – it was still so wet and windy. Finally got to the bottom and fought my way along the flagstones towards the Snake Pass road crossing as the wicked crosswind tried to gnaw a hole in me. My hands were starting to feel Eryri 2025 cold and I worried how I’d manage if the conditions stayed unchanged for the whole race. My waterproof was sodden (Kamleika = never again), the spare was in my drop bag. I took the overmitts off and just let them blow in the wind to dry out, then put on my OMM core mitts which got my fingers working again in minutes.
That would be the first deciding factor of my race. When, like me, you move at the pace of treacle (fast enough to finish but not fast at all!), it would all be about the self-care and problem-solving. About staying calm in the face of difficulty, about sorting things out methodically and moving onward. I had trained for this. I was ready for this.
In fact, it occurred to me that my life had been this. For bloody years. This is what I live for. All I had to do was just do ME.
When I reached the road I was delighted to find the SST van was a great windblock so I enjoyed a bit of banter as I got out my core gilet and buff, layered back up and got moving again. It wasn’t until I reached the gate that I remembered I needed to re-tie my shoes, and sorted that before moving into the gullies and their glorious high walls that allowed me to retain the first steady body heat I’d had in hours.
The front runners in the MRT race had long overtaken me on Kinder Plateau but wasn’t long before the rest of them started passing. My many recces came to good use at a tricky crossing that I knew would be easier the other side of the water despite the masses in front going straight over a huge hump, and I just power walked along, feeling stronger the warmer I became. Reached the cairn and hooked left, then realised this is where my fuelling went to hell last year as I’d found it hard to eat while moving along Bleaklow. Fortunately I had sensibly included a few gels in the pack this time and got the first one in.
Talk about night and day! What a coup, that gel was just the thing and got me quasi-jeffing at a solid clip, singing along with my single earphone (that other genius idea I got off someone to leave one charge while wearing the other and you always have music) and actually enjoying the terrain this time, if that can be done on Bleaklow! Because the conditions on Kinder had been so hideous, this time I felt just fine up here, navigating the constantly changing terrain bogbogbog then some joker seems to have lain four random flagstones that appear to have no purpose whatsoever other than to remind you that you’re on the Pennine Way, oh and by the way here’s some more bog!
I reached the descent to the stream crossing in no time at all, totally surprised by how fast I seemed to get there in comparison with the year before, eventually making my way along That Great Big Drop Off towards Torside where I was well surprised to catch up with my friend and legendary Spiner Gerry Dance. We nattered and plodded on for a while eventually making the descent with a little trot on and off.
Having been derailed repeatedly over the years by blisters, I was positively ebullient when my first foot inspection proved my current plan was sound. My feet were pristine! I’d used Trail Toes HP under a Bridgedale liner / Dexshell waterproof sock combo. I'd have this plus one more sock change to make before Hebden Hey and could re-lube at any time for additional protection without needing to change socks yet. My Inov8 Mudtalon V2 had also been perfect so far on all terrain.
I tied my shoes feeling quietly hopeful as it looked like the sun was having a good old battle with those storm clouds to make the rest of the day a little less frenetic.
But this is the Spine Race.
__
This is my time now, it’s all on the line now,
Destiny is mine now, watch how we rise now,
I’m so alive champions never die
They multiply keep it 20 x 5
Eyes on the prize, fit perfect my size
I get hypnotized by success and pride
It’s a crazy ride, but I possess the drive
Through it we survive and finally arrive
As the clock ticks,
Watch how real it gets
Stand strong, this is it.
Are you built for this?
___
Previous blogs in this race report:
Prologue: https://madmaxruns.blogspot.com/2026/06/prologue-here-we-go.html
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